The Bet
by Lex the Superhero
Summary: Hermione Granger has quite possibly had the worst weekend of her life. Going out for drinks with her friends should be therapeutic, right? Instead she's arguing with Draco Malfoy and putting up with Blaise Zabini's incessant teasing. She thinks some fire whiskey will probably help, but it just makes it worse, because she's pretty sure she agreed to go on a date with Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Bet**_

* * *

A/N: Hi, guys! It's been forever. I took this story down almost two years ago. A lot has changed, especially my writing. I'm in college, so I won't be able to update so frequently, but I will try when I can. It was my pet project, and now it can be that again. I'm happy with this first chapter for the most part. Please enjoy!

-Lex

* * *

Two Meetings and Some Rain

* * *

HERMIONE GRANGER RAN DOWN THE STREET with her red umbrella, rushing through the rain. She ran as fast as she could while dodging puddles, careful not to slip and fall. She was supposed to have met Luna and Ginny at a café _ages_ ago for their weekly lunch date, and they were probably plotting her murder for being so late. Okay, so it was only twenty minutes, but tardy was still tardy. She would have been quite annoyed if _she_ had been waiting so long.

_Honestly_, _of all days for it to rain, it had to be today? _The thought was somewhat irking her; the fact that the weather matched her mood was almost painfully ridiculous. As she glanced up at the gray clouds, she realized they almost seemed as sad as she was. Then she snapped out of it, reminding herself that ascribing feelings to nature was really only good in literature and that she should stop now before other things became as sullen and gloomy as her current emotions.

As she thought this, she slipped and nearly fell on the tough concrete of the sidewalk, but caught herself before she could completely fall flat on her ass and embarrass herself in a crowd of perfect strangers. Straightening herself up, and cursing under her breath, she resolved herself to focus _completely_ on dodging the puddles and getting to her destination.

And then, of course, life decided to play a rather mean trick on her. She was so focused on dodging the puddles that she bumped into somebody. Bouncing off the man's body, she almost fell on her ass again, but this time again narrowly avoided her fate thanks to the man's quick reflexes. Pulling her up until she stood straight, then letting go, the man began to apologize. "I'm sorry. I was paying attention to my phone instead of looking where I was going. It's new and I'm trying to figure it out. I know that's probably the shittiest excuse you've ever heard-"

Hermione straightened her coat, which had gone slightly askew, and interrupted the man, who was taller than she liked. "Please, don't worry about it. Honestly, I was trying not to slip so I stared at the floor instead of looking forward; I was bound to crash into someone." She tilted her umbrella back, as it dawned on her that neither of them had seen the other's face. "I should be apologizing, really-"

And then she stopped talking immediately and her mouth automatically frowned, her jaw clenching and her muscles becoming dangerously tense. She knew that face; it was unmistakable.

"_Granger?_ Just my luck," the man muttered, looking sideways and away from her, avoiding eye contact, as he pushed the phone messily into his pants pocket. His damp hair slid over his eyes and he tucked it behind his ear, still determined to not look in her direction.

She supposed that had always been the only _good_ thing about him that ever stood out at her— his hair was so blond that she could see him coming from a mile away.

(Except, of course, on days when she was sad and distracted and had a big, red umbrella covering his face.)

She thought, right then and there, that life was not done messing with her in the slightest. She had had the worst possible weekend, and it had promptly been followed by: rain, humidity (it was_ killing_ her hair), intense public clumsiness, and now a run in with someone who was more likely to insult her than anybody else on the planet. _Just great_, she thought.

Oddly enough, he looked just as tense as she was. He seemed perturbed, and honestly taken aback by her presence. Of course, it didn't help that she probably hated his guts more than anybody else's in the world. Not that he thought she didn't have reason to, of course. But when he looked at her, he remembered things he had been trying hard to forget for years, and he felt guilt wash over him for the first time in months. He realized neither of them were talking to the other, just staring, and probably thinking. He disliked this more than anything else, especially when her eyes lingered on his pocket, then looked up at his face and squinted with confusion.

She knew he had noticed her looking at his pocket, but she had only just registered the fact that Draco Malfoy, of all people, was using a Blackberry. Anti-muggle _anything_ Draco Malfoy, had in his pants pocket, a piece of muggle technology that could possibly, if not probably, be broken by his magic. And that was weird. Also, he wasn't talking to her… or insulting her, which was weirder. In any case, she decided she better not give him the chance.

She cleared her throat, determined to be civil. "Well, I'll just be on my way, Malfoy. It was… interesting to see you again. Have a nice day." She casually side-stepped him, walking past him and towards the now visible café with newfound determination. She'd be damned if she'd let such a tiny metaphorical shit-stain on her life ruin her day— or make it worse, more realistically speaking.

As she brushed past him, all Draco Malfoy registered were the words 'have a nice day' and the fact that she had stopped trying to straighten her curly hair, if her somewhat frizzy braid was anything to judge by. He turned around in time to see her enter the very café he had just come out of, and furrowing his brows in confusion, decided to chalk her politeness up to the witch's manners. Sighing and running a hand through his blonde hair, he walked aimlessly away from the direction she had been walking towards.

* * *

As soon as Hermione entered the café, Ginny Weasley was up on her feet and walking animatedly towards the entrance. When she got there, the bells above the door hadn't even finished tinkling. As Hermione put her umbrella in a nylon bag, she went to greet Ginny.

"Before you yell at me for being late, Gin-"

"You are _beyond _late, Hermione Granger. How will I ever forgive you?" The redhead interrupted her, looping her arm through hers, and guiding her to a table where Luna Lovegood was sipping on her coffee calmly.

When Hermione finally sat down, Luna looked up at her as if just noticing her. "Hermione, I'm so glad you've finally arrived. It's taken so much energy to stop Ginny from hunting you down."

Ginny scoffed slightly at the "offense", grabbing at her cup of coffee. "You say that like I'm a wild animal. I'm a _lady_. An impatient lady."

Luna smiled softly, yet slightly cryptically at Hermione, as if to communicate that Ginny was indeed incredibly impatient, or maybe that she was in fact a wild animal. Or both. It took a lot of willpower not to laugh, but she was grateful she could, after the hellish nightmare she'd suffered through. She had missed her friends so much, and just listening to them made her feel leagues better. When she zoned back in to the conversation, Luna had been answering Ginny's indignant denials in what she thought was _probably_ Confucius. She grinned as Ginny and Luna continued to bicker.

"Luna, that makes absolutely _no _sense," Ginny finally settled on, sipping her coffee and giving up, then pointing at a third cup on the table and glancing at Hermione. "That's for you, by the way, on me." She winked at Hermione playfully and Hermione smiled at her friend's antics.

"Forgive me my nonsense, as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense," Luna murmured quietly, half lost in her thoughts, a playful smile on her face. Hermione smiled warmly. She had missed her friends dearly, but it was she who had imposed her own exile. Ginny sent a stink eye in her blonde friend's direction and grinned at Hermione. Noticing that Hermione's clothes were slightly dampened by rain, Luna asked, "Hermione, why didn't you apparate closer to the café?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm scatter-brained, I suppose. I apparated two blocks away, and decided to walk the rest of the way. I'd rather not splinch myself. I've just got a lot of thoughts floating around lately."

Expecting a pitying stare, she instead got Luna's insight. "It would be slightly strange if you were thinking _less _after a break-up. Especially after being in a relationship for so long. Five years is a long time; you get used to it. You expect marriage eventually, perhaps. But not a break-up."

Ginny stared at Luna with shock. "Where the hell did that come from?" She'd honestly been expecting some kind of odd reference to medieval literature that Hermione would understand and that would probably fly past her own head. This was a bit too real, and accurate, to be frank.

Luna casually drank her coffee and replied, "I asked Blaise for his perspective."

At the mention of Blaise Zabini, Hermione scrunched her nose up in slight distaste. She was still getting used to the idea of Luna and Blaise dating, though she had been informed of this weeks ago. Her reaction had not been the best, she remembered, but she had learned to let go of some of the prejudices she still held. Of course, they were more precautions than anything else, in her opinion, but Hermione trusted Luna's judgment and her ability to choose competent partners. _Unlike me_, she thought bitterly.

Luna, for the majority of the time she'd known her, had almost always had casual relationships. Seeing her committed to one guy was weird, and it was even weirder that she had chosen the former Slytherin on top of that. If Ginny's opinion was to be trusted at all, then Blaise was a riot and "great at holding down Irish whiskey". She hadn't had a chance to really get to know him, so she knew her nose scrunching was probably unfair.

"So…" Ginny continued, keeping the conversation going. "How're you holding up?"

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, things are weird. _I_ feel weird. _It_ feels weird. It's going to take some time to get used to, especially because Ron didn't exactly give me enough information for a good, proper closure." Her temper flared at the mention of his name and she indulged it. "But hey, if your brother wants roam his _microbe_ of a Vienna sausage around town, that's his business."

Ginny resisted an urge to laugh at her own brother, though she found Hermione's phrasing funny. Luna, on the other hand, let herself laugh, the merry, tinkling sound reminding her of wind chimes. "How creative."

Hermione sighed and slumped on the table, her face smothered by the wood. She mumbled something incoherently as Luna patted her head. "Your life does not suck, Hermione. From now on, I'll never call it a penis again."

Hermione let a snicker escape her. "I guess not. Besides, I'd rather him leave me than cheat on me. It was the proper thing to do, I suppose. I'm just angry." At Ginny's worried expression, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. In better news, I've been promoted-"

This brought out an elated whoop from Ginny and a congratulations from Luna, who was clasping her hands together in happiness. "That's wonderful!" Luna said. "When did you get promoted?"

"To _what_ did you get promoted? This better not be one of those ass-backwards promotions they used to give my dad all the time." Ginny pursed her lips, distaste on her face. "I'll file a complaint. With my fist."

Luna laughed airily again, and shook her hand as if waving away Ginny's threat. "That's not a complaint, Ginny."

Ginny stuck her tongue out impishly at Luna while Hermione smiled at their antics. Honestly, why did she think it was a good idea to avoid her best friends? She felt her chest warm up with the familiar sensations of love and affection. Then she remembered that they weren't exactly too aware of the situation Ron had left her in. "I was promoted on Saturday to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Luna's happy praise was eclipsed by Ginny's quiet reaction. Hermione watched her as she casually glanced up over her eyelashes, sipping her coffee. "Saturday?" It seemed like an innocent question, and it would have been too, if Hermione didn't know Ginny Weasley. That wasn't a question. It was more like asking for confirmation before she made her intended kill. On the surface, Ginny seemed calm, charming— even lovely. But Hermione knew that her eyes were burning with fire, and that her right eye was twitching slightly. "The day my brother broke things off?"

She nodded a bit reluctantly. "Yes. Actually, I debated the possibility that the promotion was what triggered the break-up. But I felt awfully silly after thinking it over..." She looked over at Ginny, who was sitting with her shoulders tense, as if trying to prevent herself from saying something that would make things worse. "Because Ron has never been_ that_ petty. He's got a lot of flaws— like the rest of us, mind you. But he was never that discouraging. So I guess I'll take what he told me at face value. I'm a boring old crone." She smiled sardonically at her own self-deprecating joke.

Ginny almost wished her brother was here so she could throw her steaming cup of coffee at his head. Her fingers itched with the need to hit him furiously. _Idiot, idiot, idiot._ Hermione was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She'd changed him for the better, she knew. It wasn't like his personality had changed terribly. No, he was still her stupid, older brother that she loved immensely. But being with Hermione for five years had given him some kind of experience or wisdom that he had desperately needed. Maybe it hadn't been Hermione and it had just been time, but he had become less brash, more compassionate, and less prone to running away in his anger and jealousy. It made this sudden decision of his seem all the more strange and unnatural. _What the hell were you thinking, Ron?_

Luna's soft voice broke her from her intense thoughts. "So, when do you start?" She smiled at Hermione. "I'm sure you'll shine there."

Ginny laughed. "That's so cheesy, Luna."

Luna looked at Hermione and murmured, her voice soft, tilting her head. "What do stars do? They shine." Hermione smiled softly at what she knew Luna was trying to do. A line from a great book, an attempt to bolster her self-confidence… but it stayed an attempt. She did not feel any different than she did earlier today.

Ginny cleared her throat. "So, you'll be seeing Harry often then?"

Hermione nodded. "I think so, yes. It will be a bit of a change, of course. A different kind of work." She scrunched up her nose like she wasn't too happy with the change.

She_ was_ really quite excited to go from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was going to do so much there. It was going to be different, and the idea of that made her uncomfortable. She thought of what Scrimgeour had asked her when he'd come to give them what Dumbledore had left them (and also to interrogate them to within an inch of their lives). She thought of what she'd told him in return.

"_Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" he'd asked her, after she'd demonstrated her knowledge of the law and the fact that he was bullshitting through his teeth, trying to justify the unjust seizure of the artefacts Dumbledore had left them._

_"No, I'm not," she'd spat right out at him. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!" Ron had laughed immediately, but she'd meant every word she said. The Ministry was corrupt; it had been for who knows how long, and it would stay that way unless they tried to change the world. _

And Merlin, had they tried. They were _still_ trying. The political nuances, the ridiculous brownnosing… none of it had interested her. She wanted to do _good_, and Magical Law was bad; it was restrictive, ridiculous, almost primitive. On top of that, it was exploited by anyone with power. Some rules were there only because the people who proposed them had the power and benefitted from them.

She had fought so hard for House Elves' Rights, the image of a dying, noble, selfless Dobby burning through her mind. Nothing in her life could have prepared her for the ache the war had left inside of her. Sometimes it was easy to ignore, but too often she thought too hard, and an overwhelming wave of loss washed over her.

This was _never_ happening again, _not in her lifetime; not while she was still breathing_. Most of the change, though her seventeen-year-old self would have disagreed most passionately and rationally, could only come through Magical Law, as she grew to understand through her few years at the Ministry. But she could never be what Scrimgeour had been. She would never be corrupt. Her goal was still to do good, and she had never once allowed herself to forget it.

As she zoned back in to the conversation, Luna asked her if she wanted a magazine from the rack. She shook her head; gossip magazines gave her long-lasting headaches. Ginny opined that she could do with a magazine; she was feeling particularly in need of some good natured laughing. Hermione smiled at Ginny, so witty and lively and fun. Sometimes she forgot that the war had left her in pieces as well, but as Ginny had once jokingly pointed out, concealer covered up everything, even insomnia. She watched Luna walk back with two magazines, and remembered how she hadn't spoken for months at a time, her eyes hauntingly empty. She shook her head, snapping out of it. She had fallen into it again.

She smiled up at her friends, who were busy teasing each other, then almost spit up her coffee when Ginny asked her if she wanted to go out drinking with Blaise Zabini and, get this, _Draco Malfoy_.

"Is that a _joke_? Gin, stop messing with me."

Ginny's raucous laughter echoed throughout the café. Hermione gave her the best stink-eye she could muster. "That's not funny. Stop it."

Luna cleared her throat. "She's not joking. Blaise and Draco were here earlier, and we all agreed to go out for drinks later. Come with us?" As if anticipating what Hermione was going to say, she continued with, "Draco's his best friend; Blaise isn't going to leave him alone."

Hermione shook her head. "That's fine and all, but I'm not too keen on drinking with Malfoy, of all people. He hates me. I remind him of his less charitable days." It suddenly made sense that she'd run into him so nearby the café. He was leaving as she was arriving.

Ginny shook her head. "He's changed, I think. Blaise seems pretty insistent on that." The way Ginny said it, like Blaise couldn't be wrong, bothered her more than she cared to admit. Of course, for the past two or three years, the press had swarmed Draco Malfoy's everyday life— his many flings, his career, his change of heart regarding pureblood doctrine. But to be honest, she'd always rolled her eyes at that. She had trouble imagining Malfoy regretting his beliefs. She sighed, reminding herself that this wasn't Hogwarts, that wars are difficult on both sides, that giving people second chances is important.

"I ran into him on my way here and he looked quite displeased to see me. He even muttered it aloud," she said, as if that proved he was still a slimy git. Then the Blackberry flashed in her mind. Maybe he _had_ changed, even if just enough to use a cell phone.

Ginny laughed harder than she'd laughed the whole time, and Luna joined her. As she dried the tiny tears that has formed in her eyes with her fingertips, she breathlessly replied, "That's probably my fault, actually. He made a casual inquiry about you and I might have turned it into a teasing fest."

Hermione cringed inwardly as she realized how absolutely embarrassing _that_ must have been. Teasing at Ginny's hand was often times hilarious, but also explosively humiliating. If she had been in his place, she supposed she would have reacted in a similar way. She thought back to it, and only recalled having been met with surprise and tenseness; not meanness or malice. And she did feel like she needed a stiff drink. She sighed outwardly. "All right, I _suppose _a shot of fire whiskey never hurt anyone."

Luna's eyes twinkled mischievously. "_Actually_," she had started, before Ginny's hand shot out and covered her mouth. She glared at her before turning to Hermione.

"Ignore her."


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Bet**_

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've had a busy couple of months, but here you go. Enjoy, hopefully.

-Lex

* * *

Fire Whiskey and Arguments and Bets, Oh My!

* * *

SHE WAS STARTING TO QUESTION HER OWN SANITY BY THE TIME SHE'D GONE home. Who was she doing this for? Herself or her friends? Did she need a drink this badly?

(Yes.)

If she did need a drink, and she wasn't saying she did, then she could just drink at home. Honestly, it would be safer to drink at home than at some random pub with her friends and a couple of untrustworthy men. As a feeling of sadness washed over her, she decided that she needed to go out. She could not stay cooped up in here forever, especially not with Ron being everywhere she looked: in pictures, his socks in the bit of floor right next to the hamper, his ratty t-shirt she'd taken for herself as collateral for Ron losing a poker game…

Realizing her train of thought was leading nowhere good, she jumped, walking over to Crookshanks, who had been napping in "his" armchair, and petting him. He opened his eyes blearily, glaring up at her, and looking like he wanted her to do nothing more but to stop touching him that instant.

She sighed, putting her hand on her cheek. She _really_ needed to get out of her flat.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was used to being called a lot of things. Some of them were _not_ declarations of love towards her, to her great surprise. Because really, she was _awesome_. She was used to being called one thing specifically, though: a good friend.

And no awesome person, or good friend, could let Hermione Granger willow away into antisocial nothingness. So tonight, they were going out to a _great_ pub, with _great_ liquor, and _great_ food, and _great _dancing, and great _everything_.

As she slipped her black dress over her body, she also briefly considered that getting Hermione drunk with Draco and Blaise in attendance would not exactly do wonders for her reputation. But then again, she'd already puked on Blaise's good shoes and accidentally spit in Draco's chips that one time, so really how bad could it be?

If anything, this would help merge what would become their new, odd circle of friends. If anyone had told her she'd be friends with two slytherins, least of all, Draco Malfoy, the Magical Bouncing Ferret, she would have laughed in their face. But things change, and this was a change she was all for.

Of course, she'd initially hated the idea of associating with either of them, especially Draco, but she had to admit that Blaise had really won her over. As far as she was concerned, anyone who could look so pristinely attractive while making her a drink was considered family.(And also they were expected to teach her all their magic liquor tricks.) Harry had been a lot more understanding than she'd thought he'd be about this weird connection between their two groups, but she realized that maybe there were some things he kept to himself. She knew she did.

Regardless, it was weird to see how okay with everything Harry had been. Of course, he'd expressed worry about Draco in general, but that was expected, if not guaranteed.

As she put on her heels, she remembered how Draco had reacted to her subtle teasing about Hermione. He had gone beet red, a color so obvious on his pale face that it had been hilarious to look at. She hoped she had another chance to provoke that reaction from him soon.

She felt a little bad, though, now that she thought about what potentially weird, friendship ruining memories could pop up in both Hermione and Draco's heads. She sighed, slumping against her pillows.

Merlin, being considerate sucked. It ruined all her good joke material. What would Fred and George do?

Probably make the joke anyway, actually.

* * *

Draco sneered in the mirror as he buttoned up his waistcoat. "Come to lunch with us, Draco. It will be fun, you said. Let's go to the pub tonight, you said. I'm not forgetting to mention that bloody Hermione Granger will be there, because that would be stupid of me, Draco."

Blaise rolled his eyes as he buttoned his shirt cuffs. "Oh, get over it, you bastard. Ginny told you."

Draco turned sharply around. "Yes, and you were supposed to tell me before that so I could have _prepared_, you tactless tosser."

Blaise snorted as he put cologne on. "Prepared for what, exactly? It's not like you can control your giant boner for Granger." When he turned to face Draco, he had to laugh at the horrified expression on his face. "I'm just kidding, mate."

Draco sat down on his friend's lavish couch, pretending that there wasn't a garter hanging off the arm. He frowned, staring at his best friend. "Fuck you."

Blaise laughed again, this time harder, but sobered up when he caught a glimpse of Draco's stony face. "Come on, Draco, you knew you were going to have to talk to her eventually."

"No, I most certainly did not."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You're being a kid. Did you ever even thank her for her testimony?"

Draco's scowl grew larger as Blaise patted his back. "Well, then today's the day you get drunk enough to admit to Granger that you are eternally grateful."

"Wonderful," Draco spat out. Just bloody wonderful.

* * *

Hermione looked Ginny Weasley dead in the eye. "No. Absolutely not. Sod off."

Luna laughed softly, sitting on Hermione's couch with Crookshanks in her lap. She was wearing a silvery blue sundress on top of a pink one and she had earrings that looked like Pygmy Puffs. Her light blonde, wispy hair was in a braid, flowers intertwined with the strands. It was so loose on top that strands had begun to fall out already and frame her face, though she looked a bit unkempt.

Ginny, on the other hand, had her hair curled and was in a slimming black dress that glittered occasionally in the right light. The juxtaposition of the two in the same room was striking to the eye and brought out their differences, which made it all the weirder that they both agreed on what dress Hermione should be wearing.

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "Why not? You look great in this dress."

Hermione shook her head. "It's too short, Gin."

Ginny rolled her eyes at that. "No, it's not. If you can bend down without someone seeing your unmentionables, it's long enough."

She threw the dress at Hermione, who was starting to waver in her determination. She had bought this dress a long time ago, thinking it would be slightly longer on her and failing to try it on. She had miscalculated the size of her backside, which admittedly was not _that_ large, but it was large enough that the dress hiked up slightly. She'd never worn it out on account of Ron's jealousy. It's not that he couldn't contain himself, but it was unnecessary to color their dates with negative emotions when she could wear something else.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she held it in her hands and nodded slightly, agreeing to wear it. It would be a step outside her comfort zone, but she'd maybe wear some tights under it and that would make her feel more comfortable. She smiled back Ginny's huge, toothy grin, then walked out of the living room and into her bedroom to change.

Maybe this could be fun. Just maybe.

* * *

Okay, so this was not even close to being fun at all, she silently admitted to herself.

She had most definitely miscalculated. It was loud and crowded, and she already wanted to go home, and they'd just sat down at their "usual" booth, apparently. Obviously, she wasn't used to the booth at all, but she couldn't say the same for her friends. She ran her fingers through her curly hair, separating the somewhat stiff strands that Ginny had insisted adding moose to, trying to get rid of the slight anxiety she felt.

She knew going out would be good for her in the long run, but she was pretty uncomfortable with the amount of people there and their lack of volume control, not to mention the way she self-conciously kept tugging her dress down, even though she knew it was long enough that she didn't have anything to worry about. She looked over at Ginny, who was animatedly chatting with Luna and wished she had even a fragment of the comfort Ginny had with her own body.

At least Draco and Blaise weren't there yet. It would give her time to calm down or get drunk, whichever happened first.

* * *

Draco had spent the entire time Blaise was getting ready muttering like an old man. Blaise was taking forever to get ready, that much was true, but Draco hadn't been complaining about that obvious truth, and instead seemed only focused on the fact that he'd have to face Hermione Granger for the first time in years, something which he was surprisingly adept at avoiding given the circles he was running in lately.

"Merlin's beard, could you shut your mouth for a minute? You're giving me a headache," Blaise complained, ignoring the scowl Draco was sending his way. "You were the one who asked why Granger wasn't there, weren't you? Brought this upon yourself."

Draco scoffed. "I was curious, Blaise, not asking for it."

Blaise shook his head. "Whatever, mate. It's time we get going, so put on your big boy trousers and suck it up. You'll have to make small talk with Granger for one evening while we all get deliberately arseholed, not try and fix the Ministry of Magic in one go."

Draco nodded stiffly, but his eyes were still the same as before, petulantly wanting to stay home and just avoid her at all costs. It had been mortifying enough when Hermione Granger, "Brightest Witch of her Age" and all that barmy crap, had testified at his hearing. Of course, Harry bleeding Potter had also testified, but that was different.

He braced himself for the odd feeling apparation left in his stomach. It was different, he continued thinking.

They had a different sort of relationship. Potter thought he was a git, and he thought Potter was a wanker. Granger, however… Granger he had teased mercilessly, harassed, and bullied for the better part of his years at Hogwarts. She had been tortured by his crazed aunt on top of that, so when she showed up, prim and proper in her suit, with her curly hair in a bun and dark circles beneath her eyes that still weren't gone, to testify towards his _pardon_, he had wanted to literally drown himself in his bathtub. It was like it couldn't be helped, the goodness inside of her just had to fucking come out and make her feel indebted to him. She wasn't. Nobody was. He had been fully expecting a sentence, as well as his father receiving a longer one.

Instead, because they had "defected"— which to him was a generous term, given his total cowardice and his father's general arseholery— they had gotten away relatively scot-free. Him in particular, more so because of his youth. But he supposed that his lie about Potter's face and his mother's lie about Potter's death— it is all about Potter all the time, isn't it? — had been enough to secure their pardon. Their assets had been frozen for nearly three years, and it had allowed some debt to accumulate, but that was nothing compared to what he thought they'd receive. They'd been allowed to keep their wands, though they had been confined to some extreme magic tracking spells for several months after the hearing.

And he had Hermione Granger to thank for it. (And to a lesser degree, Harry Potter, but he'd probably have to be dead first before he'd thank him at all.)

Maybe it was his guilt that made him avoid thanking her. Actually no, there was no maybe, that was literally it. His mother would have his head mounted on the wall if she knew he'd never actually sent that Thank You note she'd gotten made for the occasion. How do you thank someone who suffered at your hand for saving your sorry ass?

Probably not by refusing to look her in the eyes, but hey, at least he was in her presence now, he thought to himself, as he looked around the pub. Blaise was already several strides ahead of him, probably excited to ruin his life in the course of one night.

He sighed and followed, and sat down, of course, right across from Hermione fucking Granger. He gave her a slight nod of his head, which she responded to slightly uneasily. He sighed and flagged a young man carrying a tray down. "Bring me some fire whiskey, would you?"

"A glass, sir, or a bottle?"

He allowed himself to glance at her, fidgeting with her dress, before glaring intensely at the server. "Both."

* * *

After a few glasses of fire whiskey, he felt a lot more comfortable being around Hermione Granger. Still, he was nowhere near comfortable enough to actually talk to her.

"Oooh!" he heard Ginny squeal. "We should get some champagne to celebrate Hermione's promotion!"

Luna nodded softly, her eyes focused on the imaginary circles she was tracing on Blaise's forearm, his sleeves rolled up.

As Ginny got up, Blaise grinned at Hermione. "A promotion, eh? Feels good, I bet."

Hermione let a tiny smile show through, having become a little more comfortable with Blaise's presence. "It does. I've been transferred to Magical Law Enforcement. I've worked hard in my previous department, you know, with house elves' rights—"

Draco had snorted at that, and Hermione had glared at him through the corner of her eye before focusing back on Blaise. Ginny had just returned with a champagne bottle in her hand, sitting down and looking at the awkward silence with a confused expression. She glanced at Luna, who seemed slightly on edge.

"— and things like that, so it was gratifying to move up to a department where I'm freer to challenge more unjust laws."

That was followed by another snort on Draco's part.

She was stirring her fire whiskey, then let her anger spill out. "And just what was that snort, Malfoy? Or are you _not _a proponent of rights?" She narrowed her eyes at him, letting her mistrust and years of dislike towards him show slightly.

He rolled his eyes in response, slumping his cheek against his long hand. "I am a proponent of rights for _all,_ Granger. You'd be happy to know that my childhood indoctrination, through much reading and personal grievance, has almost completely vanished."

He bit the inside of his cheek before taking a gulp of his glass. The liquor burned where his teeth had just dug into his flesh, but it was a sobering kind of stinging. He had no idea where this sudden eloquence and verbosity in Granger's presence had come from, but if he didn't maintain it, he'd make an ass of himself. Of course, that shouldn't matter in the slightest to him, but through the course of the evening, he found himself craving her approval. It was… inconvenient at best. He assumed it was probably left over guilt and a misguided sense of gratitude, but he _had_ actually changed a lot since the last time she saw him. It wouldn't hurt to let her see that.

"Oh? So what was that all about?" she replied, her face colored red and indignant.

He couldn't help but crack a smile at the strands of hair that seemed to messily move with her face as she spoke. "House elves, in particular, seem to like serving others. While it is commendable that you care so much about them, they seem to not care much about the law."

Hermione shook her head, irritated. "Of course they _don't_. After centuries of indentured servitude, of _slavery_, do you honestly think they care about the law? Magical law, which has only served to reinforce their submissive nature and led to their exploitation?"

He gulped down the rest of his fire whiskey. "No one's arguing about the nature of magical law with you, Granger. It's_ all_ dirty politics and brown nosing. But regardless of how they are affected, you must admit that house elves are exactly that: submissive. They live to serve. It's not that the law shouldn't be changed to protect them from less than decent masters, or perhaps to include the mandatory payment for their services, but that you seem to ignore that they don't particularly want to be 'saved'," he finished off, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Hermione glared at him again, putting her fire whiskey down. "That's because they've been _abused _and have developed a _psychologically dependant relationship_ with their masters! Honestly, what a load of codswallop! If they wanted to stay like that, why would the presenting of clothes and their subsequent freedom carry so much weight?"

This time, he met her glare, staring calmly into her eyes as she furiously sipped her third glass of fire whiskey that night. He knew Blaise was burning holes into his head, and that Luna and Ginny were probably unsure of how to even get between this argument. He knew he should stop. Instead, he felt the words tumble out of his mouth. "You said it. _Psychologically dependant _creatures. Do you honestly think it wise to suddenly sever that relationship with one law? That wouldn't backfire, would it?" He knew he probably sounded condescending, but then again, he usually was.

"First of all," Hermione retorted fiercely, "it is incredibly astounding that you seem to assume that I have no knowledge of psychology or how to deal with psychological trauma, given both my heritage and my past."

He flinched at that before he could stop it, and she saw it. He knew she did because for a second, she almost looked unsure about tearing him a new one, but one lift of his eyebrow had convinced her to keep going. "Secondly, who in their right mind would try to fix centuries of abuse and psychological dependency with _one_ law? And finally," she said, glaring at him ferociously, "while you are entitled to your own opinion, no matter how utterly idiotic and _useless_ it is, I suggest you stick to doing whatever it is you do at Malfoy International— killing people's hopes and dreams, probably— and leave the social reform to those qualified to do it!"

She was almost panting, her chest slightly heaving, obviously upset. He had hoped for light small talk that would make it easier for him to perhaps thank her for her testimony and get these unresolved feelings of gratitude out of the way, but he'd gotten this infuriating conversation instead, and now his head was pounding because of it. Or was that the fire whiskey already catching up to him? It was the first time in a long, long time that he had the kind of conversation that made him think. Maybe in a different life, he and Granger could have been friends.

"Wow," he managed to get out. "I can honestly see why they transferred you to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even outside of court, you could probably talk fugitives to death."

She gaped at him, ready to screech out a comeback at the top of her lungs when Blaise's throaty chuckle rang throughout their booth. They both turned to face him sharply, Hermione furious and just about ready to boil, and Draco looking annoyed but not the least surprised with his friend. "Seriously, Blaise?" he asked, irritated.

He managed to stop laughing, responding with an out of breath, "I'm sorry, but that was too much. This was hilarious. It was like watching the angriest game of verbal table tennis I've ever witnessed."

Draco rolled his eyes at that, and Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at Blaise with a face that said that whatever points he had managed to earn on her good side were in danger of disappearing.

He wiped his finger underneath his eye, making a show of cleaning up the tears his laughter had brought. "Merlin, you two still can't stomach each other. Imagine if this had been a date," Blaise had snickered to Ginny. "I don't think either of them would have made it out alive!"

Ginny allowed herself an unladylike snort before speaking up for her friend. "Oh, I'm sure Hermione would make it out just fine! It's Draco you'd be right to worry about. You might find a mangled ferret on your doorstep one day."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend's comment, but felt herself fill up with a strange sort of pride due to Ginny's quick and loyal defense. She had great friends.

Blaise shook his head, laughing, ignoring the glare Draco was sending his way. He sent every threat he knew mentally in his direction. The killing intent that surrounded him was so dense it might actually physically manifest itself, envelop Blaise, and choke him to death, but Blaise kept going anyway. "Sure, Gin, if you say so, but I doubt even Hermione has enough patience to put up with this bratty git!"

Draco and Hermione both responded with the same incensed expression, only they had very different replies, with Draco snarling out an extremely feral "Fuck you, Zabini!" and Hermione spitting out an indignant "I have _more_ than enough patience, I'll have you know!" instead.

Blaise let an entirely animalistic grin take over his face, with Draco realizing much too late where this conversation was heading. "Oh, is that so? Prove it, Granger." With a disgruntled sigh, he buried his head in his arms and waited for it all to end in flames, because that was what Blaise seemed to be doing. "Go out with Draco, then. If you can't make it past one date, you certainly have no chance at lasting a month!"

As Hermione sputtered out a half-arsed excuse, Draco reached out to grab his bottle of fire whiskey without even lifting his head up. Maybe if he was completely pissed in the morning, he could get out of this. "That's ridiculous. I'd have to be barking mad to even consider it!" She took a big gulp of her drink, because if she was sober enough to understand this conversation, she obviously wasn't drunk enough.

Blaise allowed himself a slow stretch of his arms and legs before stifling a yawn with his hand. "Hmm, let's see if I can get you barking mad then," he said, grinning. "If you manage to date Draco for an entire month, I'll publicly offer my extremely positive, yet completely earnest, opinion of the new house elves' rights bill you're trying to pass."

Hermione's mouth hung open in shock, and Draco's head shot right out of his arms. "You absolute wanker, she's not going to let you buy her off! Does she look like Cornelius Fudge to you?"

Luna finally let out the laugh she'd been trying to hold in, with Ginny following suit. Blaise grinned cheekily at him, then looked good-naturedly at Hermione. "It is, I solemnly swear, my completely earnest opinion."

The Zabinis were still pretty big in Wizarding society, Hermione knew. His support could be vital. As the liquor finally seemed to start kicking in, she managed to close her mouth, her throat feeling dry and brittle. "Okay."

Draco sunk his fingers into his blond hair, latching on firmly to his scalp. He knew he had no say in this, because if he didn't agree to it, everyone would gang up on him. What was Blaise trying to do? He wanted to thank her _somewhat_, not bone her. Honestly, he was sure the headache he was sporting right now was caused by one person and one person alone, his name being Blaise Zabini, though he doubted anyone would recognize him by sight after tonight.

"Perfect," he heard Blaise's silky voice say. "I'm sure Draco would be more than happy to comply."

Maybe it was the liquor, he thought to himself, but he honestly didn't give a rat's ass anymore. He was going to beat the shit out of Blaise Zabini.

* * *

Warm sunlight streamed in through her window, and Hermione Granger found her eyes burning at the too bright light. Groaning, she rolled around in her blankets, trying to make sense of the killer hangover she was sporting. She knew she didn't have work today because it was a holiday, and she knew she had gone drinking last night with her friends and…

She clutched her stomach to combat the feeling that it had dropped one-hundred feet downwards. She had agreed to date Draco Malfoy.

For a month. So that Blaise could support her new proposal. She was pretty sure that was insanely corrupt, but as she hugged her pillow, she thought of his words. If it truly was his completely earnest opinion, then she really wasn't doing anything wrong, right? Merlin, why had she thought getting continuously drunk was a good idea? Probably because she had already been drunk to begin with.

Her mind flashed to her heated argument with Malfoy, and she pulled the blanket over her head and groaned.

How in hell was she going to do this?


End file.
